Every Time I Look For You
by for always forever
Summary: Blaine gulps. "I can turn invisible." The boy raises both eyebrows. "Wow, I'm jealous. I've been wishing I could be invisible all my life." / Or where the gleeks have superpowers and Blaine's the new kid. Klaine. Brittana. Quick. Samcedes. Finchel.
1. things have changed for me

**author's note: **oh geeze, first chapter story ever. correction: first chapter story that _isn't_ just a collection of one shots because those don't count. let's see how this goes. i got this idea when i was reading another story in another fandom-which shall remain unnamed because it's embarassing as hell-about the characters having super powers. so i was like 'oh, superpowers! how can i turn this into something glee related?' because that's just how my brain works. so i started thinking about which powers were good for who, and i just really wanted kurt to be telekenetic. and so was the birth of this thing. i'm pretty happy with it. it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but it only got this far and it was eight pages. it's not going to end anytime soon, either. soooo please enjoy, read and review. even if you think it sucks, review so i can make it not suck. thank you!  
><strong>disclaimer:<strong> i don't own anything because i'm a poor sixteen year old girl with no life. also, all lyrics in this chapter belong to panic! at the disco, as well as the title.

* * *

><p><em>things are shaping up to be pretty odd.<br>little deaths in musical beds;  
>so it seems i'm someone i've never met.<em>

* * *

><p>Blaine watches out the window as the cars pass by. He glances at his mom, then looks down, then glances back. She looks as nervous as he feels. She taps her hands nervously on the steering wheel. It wouldn't bother him if she was actually in time with the song, but she's not, so he says, "Mom. Chill."<p>

His mom huffs out a breath. "I'm just worried. This is your third transfer in two years, Blaine," she bites her lips nervously and pulls up to the stoplight. Blaine looks down. She sighs. "I really thought Dalton was a good match for you."

Blaine shrugs. "Well, you know. If I hadn't disappeared into thin air in the middle of Warbler's practice…" he trails off. The joke is lost on his mother, who just frowns deeper. Blaine sinks into his seat.

"You can't let anyone know your secret," she whispers.

"Which one?" Blaine jokes, and his mother shoots him a glance to let him know that she is _not amused._

"Teenagers can use anything to alienate you, Blaine," she says stiffly, "They're cruel."

"The kids at Dalton didn't care I was gay," he retorts weakly. It falls on deaf ears.

"Promise me, Blaine," she says as they pull into the parking lot. He thinks that the brick building of McKinley High looks a lot more ominous then it should. He glances back at his mother, "Promise me that you won't give them a reason to hate you. _Either one._"

"I promise," Blaine says quietly. His mother smiles at him, and he can't help but notice how _tired_ she looks. He tries his best to smile back.

He knows she's just worried, but it really _sucks_ that he can't be himself.

* * *

><p>It takes Blaine a few seconds after he gets his—admittedly rather complicated—schedule to realize that he has <em>no idea where he's going<em>. McKinley's not as big as Dalton, but it's a lot more crowded, and Blaine's kind of short. His homeroom is F-230, and seriously, whose idea was it to put letters and numbers together? Because he's pretty sure he just walked by A-231 and he's not exactly sure how that's going to work. He's about to crumple up the stupid bright yellow paper and throw it in the trash can when someone bumps into him. Hard.

"Watch where you're going, Curly-Q," the girl bites. Blaine's got to admit, she's kind of pretty. If, you know, he was straight.

"Such a warm welcome," he mumbles, ready to push past her. She gets this surprised look on her face and _still_ manages to look like a bitch.

"You obviously don't know who I am," she says, looking him up and down.

He blinks. "No, and I don't think I want to," he says, because he doesn't really have a filter. She glares at him.

"I'm Santana _Lopez,_" she says, like it's supposed to mean something to him.

"And I'm _Blaine Anderson_," he says slowly, waving his hands around a little. She looks at him like he's crazy, and maybe he is.

"Are you like, new here?" she asks, crossing her arms.

Blaine smiles a little uneasily. "It it that noticeable?"

She nods appraisingly. "That explains the attitude," she says, "Either way, I like your style, short stack. You can walk me to class."

Blaine blinks twice. "I'm gay."

She stares at him blankly. "I noticed," she says slowly.

"I…what?"

"Please, my gaydar is spot on," she scoffs, "No worries; we play on the same team. Out and proud," she twirls her finger in the air sarcastically. Blaine stares at her. She rolls her eyes. "C'mon, where are you looking for?"

She snatches his schedule, scans it over and says, "This way," before pulling him by the arm down the hallway. And _ow_, her nails are razor sharp. "Just think of me as your official tour guide."

* * *

><p>Blaine's on his way to his third period class when<em> it<em> happens. He's walking down the hallway by himself because Santana ditched him for some blonde girl. By the way she shoved her tongue down the other girl's throat, Blaine figures they're together.

_It_ comes in the form of a skinny blonde girl. Blaine's walking past a classroom when he sees her. She's talking to some bulky kid with a Mohawk that Blaine makes a mental note to avoid at all costs.

"C'mon, Fabray, just this once?" the guy asks, and the girl rolls her eyes.

"Puck, seriously," she says, "Mr. Schue said we need to be more careful," she averts her eyes, "Especially after what happened to Kurt."

Blaine's not eavesdropping. Really, he's not.

"No one's around, though," the boy—_Puck?_—says flippantly, "It's okay. Quinn, seriously, I wouldn't ask if I didn't really need it."

Quinn watches him uncertainly, than says, "Fine. I still hate you, though."

Puck grins. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Quinn shoots him a hesitant smile, before leaning down and _lifting the entire book case up with one hand._ Blaine's pretty sure kids on the other side of the school can hear his jaw dropping. Puck leans down and picks something shiny off the ground. Quinn doesn't even look phased. Blaine can't help it. He steps into the room and yells, "I just _saw that!_"

Quinn drops the book case with a loud thud, spilling papers and notebooks onto Puck's head. "_Shit!_" Puck swears loudly, and Quinn looks like she's about to cry.

"Please don't tell anyone," she says hysterically, clutching onto Puck's shoulder. Puck's eyes bug out.

"Ow, ow, _ow!_" he yells, "Quinn, _ouch,_ let go!"

Quinn gasps and pulls her hand back as if he'd burned her. There are tears in her eyes as she exclaims, "Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Blaine watches them with wide eyes.

"You tell anyone," Puck says, and he even manages to sound threatening on the ground and clutching his shoulder in pain, "and I will _kick your ass._"

Blaine shakes his head furiously, "No, you don't get it!" Quinn's staring at him fearfully, and Puck stands up to loom over him, "I can do stuff like that too! Well, I can't pick up a book case, but I can do this!"

Blaine disappears. Then reappears. Then disappears again. Quinn claps a hand to her mouth and lets out a surprised, "_Oh._" Puck's staring defensively at Blaine. Or, in Blaine's general direction. Because Blaine's still kind of invisible.

Blaine reappears and says, excitedly, "I thought I was the only one!"

Puck and Quinn share a long look before Quinn says, "You need to come with us."

* * *

><p>Blaine's sitting on a chair in the choir room while Quinn's talking to someone that Blaine recognizes as his Spanish teacher. Puck's standing back a little, whispering to some huge kid named Finn. They keep shooting him glances and he's starting to feel a little uneasy. His hands are clasped in his lap and he's bouncing his leg up and down, feeling a like a little kid in trouble. Maybe this is some kind of cult. Maybe his mom was right, and he shouldn't have told them, and now they're going to kill him and dump his body in a dumpster and no one will find him until he's nothing but a rotting skeleton and—<p>

"Blaine," the teacher says calmly, "We're not going to hurt you."

Blaine blinks twice. "I never said that."

The teacher smiles, "But you thought it."

Blaine hesitates. "Oh," he says lamely, "Yeah. Sorry."

"I'm Mr. Schuester," the teacher says, "And I'm like you."

"You're gay?" Blaine asks weakly, and then he kind of wants to smack himself. Mr. Schuester just kind of laughs.

"No, but I do have special powers. So does Quinn and Puck, and Finn too," he says. Blaine nods slowly.

"Super strength," Quinn volunteers with a small wave.

Puck's running around Blaine, getting faster and faster until he's just a blur. He stops suddenly, an inch from Blaine and says, "Super speed," with a shit eating grin.

Finn floats a few feet above the ground and says, sheepishly, "I can kind of fly."

Blaine nods his head weakly and says, "So, if you combined your powers you'd kind of be superman, right?"

Quinn snorts. "Super girl," she says haughtily. Puck rolls his eyes.

Mr. Schuester and Finn exchange a look, like they're having a conversation with their eyes. Except then Blaine remembers that Mr. Schue can read minds, so they're probably having a conversation in their heads. Blaine shifts uncomfortably.

"I'll call the others," Mr. Schue says quietly. Blaine's eyes widen.

"There's _more of you_?" he blurts out.

Mr. Schuester smiles sadly. "A whole glee club full."

* * *

><p>Blaine's sitting silently, twiddling his thumbs. Quinn's pacing back and forth while Finn leans against the piano, thinking. Puck just looks bored. The silence is interrupted when a small brunette <em>phases through the wall<em>. Blaine thinks he's going to pass out, because this is all just really weird.

Mr. Schuester glances at him worriedly, because, oh yeah, his Spanish teacher can _read his mind. _

"Is it true?" the girl demands, "We've got a new kid? Where is he? Is he—oh, hello," she smiles charmingly at Blaine.

"Sup?" Blaine says weakly, waving a hand.

"I'm Rachel Berry, co-president of the glee club. I also walk through walls and can phase through floors. Or basically anything solid. You must be Blaine. What's your power?" She says this all in one breath. Blaine stares.

"Rach," Finn says, raising an eyebrow, "You're scaring him."

Rachel's smile falls, and Blaine's quick to answer, "No, it's fine, really. I can, uh, I can become invisible. See?" He disappears. Rachel gasps dramatically.

"Wow, that's amazing!" she exclaims, just as another girl appears. And boy, does she make her presence _known._

"Zizes in the house," she says, hands on hips, "What's up with the new kid sitch?"

"He's over there," Quinn says distastefully, nodding her head in the direction of what seems to be an empty chair.

The girl looks at Quinn like she's crazy. "Look, Fabray, I know you're all kinds of crazy, but there's _no one there_."

Blaine flushes. He sometimes forgets to reappear, and then things get confusing for everyone involved. He appears in the empty chair and says, "Hi."

The girl blinks a few times, and says, "Hey. I'm Lauren. You were just invisible?"

Blaine nods.

"Cool," she says.

A boy in a wheelchair pops up beside the piano. Blaine blinks because, woah, he was totally _not_ there a second ago.

"Yo," he says, adjusting his glasses and rolling towards Blaine. He sticks out his hand and does this weird kind of handshake that involves a lot of fist bumping. Blaine tries his best to keep up, and the other boy's nice enough not to comment. "I'm Artie. You must be Blaine? Nice to meet you, bro. I teleport."

"I…invisible-fy?"

Artie nods, "Nice, nice."

The room fills up soon enough with a variety of people. There's this one Asian girl who keeps talking to nothing beside her, and her boyfriend doesn't seem to think there's anything wrong with that. Quinn leans over and tells him helpfully, "That's Tina. She can talk to ghosts."

"Oh," Blaine says faintly, because apparently Tina's busy talking to the dead. Cool.

"That's Mike," Quinn continues, "He's kind of elastic. Like in The Incredibles? He's also a really amazing dancer."

Blaine watches as Mike throws a bouncy ball in the air, and stretches his arm three feet behind him to catch it.

Quinn smiles at him. "Then there's Mercedes," she points to a pretty girl sitting beside a tall blonde boy, "She's got something called a sonic scream. Other than that, she's got a killer voice."

"Sam," she points to the boy beside Mercedes, "He can control water. It's kind of creepy, actually. Sometimes he won't even realize it, and there'll be water swirling around his head."

Quinn points out the blonde girl Blaine saw Santana with earlier. "That's Brittany. She can multiply herself. It's a little weird because we can never tell which Brittany is which and—"

"Woah, woah, _woah_," Santana marches into the room, ready to kill, "Anderson, I thought we were friends. Why didn't you tell me you were a fellow freak?"

"I, um, I just met you?" Blaine says uncertainly. A flame erupts into Santana's open palm and Blaine shrinks back.

"That's what I can do," she says, closing her fingers around it. "Now show me yours."

Blaine disappears for the millionth time today, and then reappears. Santana nods appraisingly, before going to sit next to Brittany. Quinn pats his shoulder.

That's when another boy walks in. Blaine can't help but stare, because this boy? He's kind of amazing. He wonders if his power is like, enhanced beauty or something. Mr. Schue coughs awkwardly. Quinn's smile widens.

"You're gay, right?" she asks quietly, and Blaine nods slowly. "Good."

Before he can ask why, the boy speaks. His voice is soft, but everyone around him quiets.

"Sorry I'm late," he says airily. He sits on the other side of Mercedes and crosses his legs. He turns to Blaine, looking disinterested. Blaine feels like he should be offended, but the only feeling he can manage right now is _totally awestruck_. "You're probably tired of hear this, but what do you do?"

Blaine gulps. "I can turn invisible."

The boy raises both eyebrows. "Wow, I'm jealous. I've been wishing I could be invisible all my life."

Blaine's a little startled. The boy turns away from him and turns his attention to Mercedes, and the talking resumes. Quinn nods a little. "That's Kurt. He's a little blunt, but he's been through a lot," Quinn smiles sadly. "He's telekinetic. You know, he can move stuff with his mind."

"Woah," Blaine says, "That's awesome."

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Not when you're on his bad side."

* * *

><p>"How was your first day of school?"<p>

As soon as Blaine walks through his front door, his mom attacks him with a million questions. All he really wants to do is go to sleep. "It was fine, mom."

"Nothing bad happened?"

Blaine looks at him mom, takes in her tired eyes and hopeful smile and says, truthfully, "Nope."

* * *

><p>When he walks into school the next day, he's immediately cornered by Rachel and Mercedes. He backs up a little.<p>

"Hi, Blaine!" Rachel chirps, and Mercedes grins.

"Hi," Blaine says.

"You should sit with us in lunch today," Rachel says, all honest eyes and bright smiles.

Blaine nods. "Okay."

Rachel claps her hands together and squeals a little. "Oh, good! We're gonna be great friends."

Blaine nods weakly.

* * *

><p>Blaine stands, invisible, in front of the choir room. He'd showed up early for Glee—and he still wasn't positive if it was an actual show choir or just a cover up—but all he'd found was Kurt Hummel standing in the middle of the room. He'd disappeared at once, because frankly? Kurt scares him a little.<p>

Kurt's looking around the room appraisingly, glancing at the door every so often. He finally relaxes a little and turns to stare at a chair. It starts to _float_. Blaine's probably never going to get used to this.

Kurt lifts a hand up. The piano keys start to play a song by themselves, and the papers tacked to the notice board start ruffling. The chairs all float a few inches above the ground while the piano stool flies across the room. Kurt lifts his other hand, and Blaine watches the pencils in the cup fly and get stuck in the ceiling. Blaine's not too familiar on how this whole thing works, but it's plain to see that Kurt's powerful.

Blaine has a very long history of downright clumsiness. During Warbler practices, his dancing consisted of jumping on furniture, which he would eventually fall off of. His clumsiness also has a very long history of striking at inopportune times, like last year at sectionals. And right now.

Blaine leans forward a little too far and manages to trip over absolutely nothing. He bangs against the door and falls against the locker beside it. The noise it creates echoes in the empty hallway. Everything in the room drops with a loud _crash_ as Kurt freezes. He turns around slowly. Blaine's face is bright red, even though nobody can see him.

Kurt's eyes narrow when he sees no one is there. "New kid," he spits.

Kurt raises his hand, and the door slams shut.

* * *

><p>As it turns out, glee club is an <em>actual<em> show choir, made up entirely of mutant kids with awesome voices. Blaine feels like he's in a bad horror movie. And, unlike the Warblers, who were practically _royalty_ at Dalton, glee club at McKinley was a huge joke. That would take some getting used to, being the scum on the bottom of the jocks' shoes.

Blaine's sitting in between Quinn and Santana and Mr. Schue's talking about preparing for sectionals when Rachel's hand shoots in the air. Mr. Schue makes the universal sign for _wait a minute_ and continues. Rachel's face grows impatient and her arm starts waving back and forth, very nearly smacking Puck in the face. Mr. Schue sighs, finally, and says, "Yes, Rachel?"

Rachel beams and sits up a little straighter. "I think you've forgotten something very important. Blaine will certainly make a lovely addition to our glee club, what with him being a mutant and being extremely good-looking—"

"And _gay_," Santana adds flatly_, _eyebrows raised.

Rachel blushes a bright red, and beside her Finn is gaping. Blaine scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "It's not like we'll turn you away if you can't sing—"

"Zizes can't carry a tune to save her life," Quinn says kindly, patting his hand. Lauren raises a fist in her direction menacingly. Quinn doesn't even blink.

"Will you stop interrupting me?" Rachel demands shrilly, and she looks about two seconds away from stomping her foot dramatically. "As I was saying," she huffs, "I think it would be in the club's best interest for Blaine to audition, just like we all had to."

Mr. Schue nods slowly. "It is only fair," he says, turning to Blaine, "Is that alright with you?"

"It's fine," Blaine says, eager to stop any possible fighting. "I love singing."

Mr. Schue beams encouragingly and gestures to the front of the room. "The floor's yours."

* * *

><p>"<em>Things have changed for me<em>," Blaine finishes, strumming the last few chords on Sam's guitar.

Everyone is silent for a few seconds, before Rachel shoots to her feet and starts clapping wildly, exclaiming, "Finally, _finally,_ someone to keep up with my talent! Oh, the duet possibilities!" Finn, understandably, frowns, and if his claps are a little reluctant, well. Blaine doesn't exactly blame him.

Santana's smiling a little proudly, nose turned up. Brittany beams and whispers, "I didn't know elves could sing that well," in awe, and Blaine's not sure if he should be offended. Instead, he opts to take the guitar off, hand it back to Sam—"That was awesome, man, really. You can use my guitar whenever, dude."—and take a little bow. He sits back down and Quinn pulls him into the tightest hug _ever_. He gently pries her off him with a smile and reminds himself that she has super strength. Oblivious, she grins back and pats his hand. _Hard_. That's going to take some getting used to, having her as a friend. He figures she's probably worth it, though.

"Well, well, looks like we've got a new star," Santana practically _purrs_, tugging at one of his curls sharply. Blaine vaguely wonders why the two closest friends he has at McKinley are both slightly abusive.

"_Male_ lead," Rachel hurries to correct her, suddenly looking very worried. Finn opens his mouth to protest and Puck laughs a little too loudly.

"Alright guys, settle down," Mr. Schue says, but he's beaming. "That was awesome, Blaine. Welcome to Glee Club!"

Kurt stands up gracefully and leaves the room, leaving Blaine feeling hurt and a little stupid.

* * *

><p>Dinner is quiet, only the clank of silverware on plates and the rustle of napkins against fingers. Blaine chews on his pork chop slowly, carefully avoiding any eye contact with his mom across the table. He hears her set her fork down and sigh, feels her staring at the top of his head. He shoves another piece of meat into his mouth when she finally speaks.<p>

"You haven't told me much about your new school," she says, hopefully, and Blaine stops chewing to shrug.

"Not much to tell," he says, voice muffled. He swallows and catches her eye for a second.

"You've been coming home late," his mom prompts, "Hanging with friends, maybe?"

Blaine pauses, sets his fork down and bites his lip. "I, uh. I joined Glee Club."

His mother's face lights up and she says, "Oh, wow, honey, that's great! You've got such a beautiful voice, it's a shame to waste it. Tell me when your next performance is."

Blaine nods jerkily. "Yeah, mom. I will."

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter one. <strong>


	2. guess i'm what's always wrong

**author's note:** hi there. i wanna start by thanking EVERYONE who reviewed, you guys are totally awesome. i have big plans for this story, and you really inspire me to keep writing it. just a heads up, i will be changing the title of this story. but i'll let you know at least a chapter before, and i'll give you a round-a-bout estimate of what it'll be for those of you who don't have it on favorite or alert. lyrics from a day to remember, songs that are mentioned belong to joy devision and avril lavigne. AND SO THE DRAMA BEGINS. dun dun dunnnn.  
><strong>disclaimer:<strong> still own nothing, sorry.

* * *

><p><em>i hate this town,<br>it's so washed up,  
>and all my friends<br>don't give a fuck._

* * *

><p>"Blaine, honey, I need to get to work. Come on."<p>

Blaine curses under his breath as he stubs his toe against his keyboard and almost knocks it off its stand. Hurrying to catch it, he calls down, "Santana's picking me up in ten minutes, go ahead."

There's a sigh, and then she says, "Okay. Be careful," A pause, and then, "I love you."

Blaine nods, even though she can't see him. "Yeah, mom, you too." He hears the keys being grabbed from the foyer, the door opening and then closing, and finally his mom pulling out of the driveway. His phone rings—a text from Santana.

_pullng onto ur street. wht nmbr?_

Pausing for just a second to wonder how she managed to send a text while driving before deciding he really doesn't care, he taps back _if you're on mulberry then you're good. i'm number 17._

Her next text is accompanied by a honk outside—_aw ur garden is cute wht is this martha stwrts hous?_—and through the open window he can hear Santana's music blaring loudly. Blaine grabs his backpack and hurries down the stairs, grabbing his keys and a pop tart on the way.

The bass hits Blaine like a brick the seconds he opens the passenger seat. He blinks a few times before climbing in slowly—Santana's got a _hummer_, what the hell. Blaine doesn't even have a car—and shutting the door behind him. Santana grins at him and says, "Mornin', Curly Q." Blaine almost doesn't hear her over the music, in which the singer is rapping something about booty popping and big boobs. He shoots Santana a smile and unwraps his pop tart—blueberry, he realizes in dismay. He'd wanted strawberry.

* * *

><p>He hadn't exactly broken his promise to his mom. The only kids who know he can turn invisible are in glee club, but they don't count. They're his friends, and they're all kind of in the same boat on that one. It's nice to have someone to finally talk to.<p>

The thing is, the only other gay kid in the school, as far as Blaine can tell, is Kurt Hummel. And Blaine sees the way he's treated. He's not too eager to come out to his new school if that's what he has to look forward to. The guys at Dalton had been really cool about his sexuality—in fact, there were numerous gay kids in the school. The students at McKinley are much less accepting, and he wonders if that's the difference between private and public schools. If Blaine had the choice, he'd be back at Dalton. But their strict bullying policy doesn't extend to freaks like Blaine, they've made that perfectly clear.

Maybe McKinley and Dalton aren't that different after all.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he jumps, started. Turning around he says, "Can I help you?"

He recognizes the jock in front of him. He's the one that pushed Artie's wheelchair into a locker the other day. He's holding a slushie in his hand, towering menacingly over Blaine. He curses himself for being so damn _short_.

"Heard we got a new fairy in the glee club," the jock says, and then laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever said. Blaine frowns.

"I joined glee, yeah," he says, eyeing the slushie, "Why does it matter?"

"It matters cause the glee club is _gay_," the jock says slowly, like Blaine's the stupid one. Blaine raises an eyebrow.

"No, it's not," he says, frowning deeper.

The jock lets out a frustrated noise and decides he's done talking with Blaine, because a second later Blaine's eyes are stinging from purple ice chips and he feels like he's been submerged under water. He's frozen in place, sticky grape syrup dripping into his open mouth. It burns his eyes and plasters his hair to his head. People are laughing and pointing, and the idiot jock high fives a friend, and honestly, Blaine just wants to disappear. He almost does, too, damn the consequences, before a slim hand touches his shoulder and someone whispers, "Don't do anything stupid, new kid."

Blaine just nods numbly and allows himself to be pushed into a bathroom. He can't see anything through the miles of purple blocking his vision. Someone sits him on a stool and says, "Hold still."

There's this weird pulling sensation and suddenly the syrup is extracting itself from his hair, his shirt, his face. He feels his curls being pulled apart but no one's touching him and he thinks _Kurt Hummel_. There's a weird burning sensation in his eyes as he feels the syrup clear from them. He hisses out a quick, "It _stings_."

"Keep your eyes open," Kurt says sternly, and with a final yelp on Blaine's part, the slushie is gone from his eyes. Kurt's standing in front of him, face blank. The syrup that had once been stuck on Blaine is now swirling around in the air above Kurt's head. Kurt, unfazed, lifts a hand and it drops in the sink, a single drop splashing onto Blaine's arm. "There's gonna be a stain," he says disdainfully, eyes dropping to Blaine's shirt, "Your hair's fine though. Just borrow a shirt from Sam or Mike. They should be your size."

With that, Kurt Hummel turns on his heels and walks out of the bathroom with his head held high. Blaine's left wondering what the hell just happened.

It takes Blaine a few seconds of staring at the pink tile on the walls before he realizes he's in the girl's bathroom. He scrambles out of there pretty quickly.

* * *

><p>"First slushie, huh?" Sam asks sympathetically, spinning his combination a few times before he actually gets it right. Blaine nods, grimacing at the purple stains on his white tee shirt. Sam grins lopsidedly and says, "First one's always the worst. Just gets easier with each one."<p>

Blaine knows he's trying to be encouraging, so he forces a grin and says, "Hey, thanks for letting me borrow a shirt."

"No worries, man," Sam waves him off, "You're one of us now. It'd help a lot if you start bringing a change of clothes with you," he adds, throwing his locker open and grabbing a gray tee shirt. He tosses it to Blaine and locks his locker, follows Blaine into the boy's bathroom.

Blaine takes his shirt off, tosses it to Sam with a quick, "Thanks," and tugs Sam's shirt over his head. Sam leans against a sink and hands Blaine his own shirt back.

"Hey," Sam says, "Don't let this stop you from doing glee, yeah? It's a lot of fun. They're just assholes. You won't quit, right?"

Blaine runs a hand through his hair and says, grinning, "Not a chance, man."

* * *

><p>Santana struts up to his locker and slams it shut. Blaine frowns and says, "I wasn't done."<p>

"Too bad."

His frown deepens. "I need my math homework."

"It can wait."

"Why did you slam my locker?"

She leans sighs impatiently and rolls her eyes, like he's wasting her time. "I needed your full attention," she says, "You're sleeping over my house on Friday."

Blaine raises both eyebrows. "I am?"

Santana nods. "I've decided to make you my best friend, officially. Britt used to be, but then we got together. She can't be both." She pauses, considering, and says, "Well, I guess she could. If she multiplies. That would be a hot threesome, wow…"

Blaine's hands fly to his ears and he lets out an enthusiastic, "La, la, la, I can't hear you!"

Santana swats his arm and gives a small smile. "Don't be stupid."

"Okay, _best friend_," Blaine teases, and he drapes an arm over her shoulders and starts to lead her down the hall. Santana rolls her eyes, again, and pinches his side. "Demon nails," Blaine hisses.

"They don't call me Satan for nothing," Santana says dryly, snaking an arm around his waste in return. She pauses, "Hey, um, I heard you got slushied earlier."

Blaine shudders. "Yeah. Fricken' terrible."

Santana nods. "Definitely. You okay?"

"I'm fine," Blaine shrugs. "Humiliated, but fine. I almost disappeared right there," Santana's eyes bug out, and Blaine's quick to add, "But I _didn't_, okay, I didn't. Don't freak. Kurt Hummel stopped me. Cleaned me up. His telekinesis is creepy as all hell, though."

"_Lady _helped you?" Santana demands, and Blaine nods hesitantly. She starts speaking Spanish furiously under her breath and Blaine mouths, "Lady?" to himself in disbelief. No wonder Kurt's always so pissy, with nicknames like that.

* * *

><p>Blaine enters the cafeteria and heads to the glee club's usual table, his lunch heavy in his back pack. He'd learned early in his time at McKinley—and he's only been here for a week—to <em>never<em> eat anything made in the kitchens. The chicken looks like meat loaf and the meat loaf looks like a pile of pudding and the pudding, well. The pudding looks furry, and Blaine has no intentions of going anywhere near it.

He's early, for once, and he sits down in the spot that's become him own. Santana sits on his right side while Rachel sits on his left. Sitting next to Rachel is interesting, because every day this week she's tried to talk him into a duet. Finn, on the other side of Rachel, is left looking a little more disgruntled every day. Blaine politely declines and tries to find her attention flattering, he really does, but it's kind of creepy. Especially because she knows he's gay. And she's dating Finn. Blaine _really_ doesn't want to get on Finn's bad side, because Finn's the quarterback. And he's _huge_.

On Santana's right is Brittany, who's very sweet if a little bit stupid. Blaine likes talking to her, though, because it's refreshing. She's innocent—in certain ways, because Blaine's had to sit through a list of all the guys (and girls) she's been with. She and Santana keep tally—and nice to talk to, if you're interested in unicorns and leprechauns. Brittany is also convinced that Blaine is some sort of magical singing elf. Santana finds this endlessly amusing and won't help him convincer her otherwise.

Sam sits next to Finn, and Blaine's found that he likes Sam a lot. Mercedes sits on Sam's left. Blaine just found out that they've been together since Sam moved here in sophomore year. Mercedes is nice, but it's clear she's not too fond of Blaine. He hasn't exactly figured out why, yet, because Sam seems to have warmed up to him. They have tons of conversations about the best Harry Potter books, or which Star Wars movie was the worst—Blaine always argues the originals because Luke is _hot, _while Sam prefers the newer ones because of Padme. Mercedes always smiles and sometimes puts in her own opinion—even going as far as to agree with Blaine, because Luke _is_ pretty hot—but she's always a little distant and never talks to Blaine directly.

Kurt Hummel sits directly across from Blaine, which is awkward because Kurt Hummel _hates_ Blaine. For no particular reason. Blaine's tried to talk to him, but Kurt always stares at him until he looks away or stammers like an idiot for a few seconds. Santana always laughs at him. She's a terrible best friend. The thing is, Blaine isn't used to people not liking him. His mother always used to tell him that he has a kind of old charm—people are drawn to him. People _like _Blaine, and Blaine likes being liked. It's hard to have someone hate him so blatantly for _no reason_. It drives him crazy. _Kurt Hummel _drives him crazy.

The problem today is that Kurt's the only one sitting down at the table right now, so Blaine's going to be forced to sit in an awkward silence until one of their friends decides to show up. He doesn't even have the excuse of buying lunch. He trudges slowly towards the table, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to see if he can hear Sam's dorky laugh or Rachel's high-pitched whine, Finn's goofy grin or Brittany's vacant stare. No such luck. Gulping—and maybe it's a little dramatic, but Kurt s_cares him_—Blaine sits down across from Kurt, who's busy picking at a salad with absolutely no dressing and two lone croutons. It doesn't even _count_ as a salad. Kurt doesn't even look up, even though the slightest movement makes Blaine flinch.

He carefully lays his lunch out in front of him—a bottle of diet coke, half of an Italian hoagie and a bag of Doritos—and sags against his chair. He clears his throat a little too loudly, and Kurt glances up, eyebrows raised.

"Hello," Kurt says flatly.

"Hi," Blaine says, and then, "Thanks for the help today."

Kurt relaxes a little. "Don't mention it," and then takes a purposeful bite of his salad as if to say, _this conversation is done, feel free to shut up now._ Blaine does as he hasn't exactly been told.

* * *

><p>Blaine likes glee club, he really does. Even if Quinn always pats his hand a little too hard, and Rachel's voice always ends up giving him a headache, and Kurt hates him. That's a big one. The good outweighs the bad, like when he and Santana try to harmonize and fail terribly, or when Mike tries to teach him some 'smooth moves' and he falls on his butt. Its fun, learning these new things, and learning them with people who love music just as much as he does. Blaine doesn't just like glee club—Blaine loves glee club.<p>

But Blaine never realized how much _drama_ glee club entails, until he sits through a very emotional rendition of _Love Will Tear Us Apart_ when Lauren breaks up with Puck two days after finding out he's still in love with Quinn. Quinn, understandably, feels beyond weirded out. She doesn't exactly like Lauren, but she had no intention of being the reason her relationship with Puck ends. Blaine has no idea what happened between Quinn and Puck, but by everyone else's reaction he knows it's big. Though, by the way everyone is acting, Blaine thinks the world might explode in a few hours time.

After glee, Blaine approaches Lauren—since everyone's too busy either glaring at Quinn or consoling Puck—and says, "I'm really sorry, Lauren. I know this must be tough."

Lauren holds up a finger to silence him and says, "Thank, sugar, but I got this. My power? It's invulnerability. Know what that means?" Blaine opens his mouth to answer, but she cuts him off. "Means nothing hurts me. That power, it extends to my _heart_." She pauses and then shrugs, adding, "Puckerman wasn't that great of a kisser anyway." She turns to head down the hall, before turning back and giving him a small smile. "Thanks for the concern, kid. You're alright."

* * *

><p>"<em>God<em>," Quinn moans, dropping her head in her arms. Blaine pats her arm sympathetically and slides a frappechino her way. She lifts her head and sniffs, before spotting the drink and grabbing it. She sends Blaine a grateful look and sticks the straw in her mouth miserably. "This sucks."

"Does it?" Blaine asks, nudging her foot with his playfully, "I think you guys would be kinda cute together."

Quinn flushes a bright red. "Don't," she whines miserably, "I was totally in love with him last year, it was pathetic."

Blaine raises both eyebrows. "What happened?"

Quinn flinches. "I was dating Finn."

"Oh," Blaine says, confused.

Quinn sighs, sipping slowly at her coffee. Blaine takes a long swing of his own, copying Quinn's sigh in a dramatic manner to make her laugh. She cracks a smile. "I'm gonna tell you something, okay? Because I trust you, Blaine, not to judge me," she frowns, "That, and I'd rather you find out from me than anyone else."

Blaine smiles encouragingly, and says, "You're my friend, Quinn. I'm here for you."

She takes a deep breath, stares at the table as she says, "Puck got me pregnant last year," Blaine shows no sign of emotion, so she continues, "It was a little girl. Her name was Beth. We gave her up for adoption, and it was probably the worst mistake of my life. We haven't really talked since then, and I thought he got over me," she gives a dry laugh; "I never really got over him."

Blaine reaches over and takes her hand. She tells him everything, right there in the Lima Bean, and Blaine listens with open ears. When she's finished, he says, "Still love you, Quinn," with a goofy smile, and when she hugs him a little too hard he doesn't say anything.

* * *

><p>Blaine watches Lauren bounce through a happy rendition of <em>The Best Damn Thing<em> from his spot next to Quinn—who was right, by the way. Lauren can't sing, but he admires her confidence—and claps along with the rest of them when she finishes. (He maybe claps a little louder than everyone else, too.) Puck is looking sullen and sad in the corner. Finn sits dutifully next to him, and while Blaine can admire loyalty, he doesn't really understand their friendship. He doesn't think any less of Puck or Quinn, because teenagers do stupid things. He just doesn't get how Finn can just look past the fact that his best friend got his girlfriend pregnant. Blaine wouldn't have been so kind.

Blaine feels someone's eye on him, and he turns around to find Kurt glaring at the back of his head. Kurt doesn't look away, quite the contrary. He only continues to stare, until Blaine finally drops his gaze and looks away, wondering what the _hell_ he did to make Kurt hate him so much.

* * *

><p>"Hey, mom?"<p>

"Yeah, hon."

"Can I sleep over Santana's on Friday?"

"…Santana's a girl?"

"Uh, yeah. But I'm gay, mom."

"Yes, yes, I know. But does she?"

"She has a girlfriend, mom."

"Oh. Well, alright then. Glad that you're making friend, sweetie."

"Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter two.<strong>

**things to look forward to in chapter three: sleepover at santana's house, yay! a secret talent of blaine's is discovered, and some more teachers are introduced. COUGH SUE. please review, thank you!**


	3. roller coaster, favorite ride

**author's note; **i know, i know. i suck. i'm sorry! marching band just started up and i've been super busy (any fellow bandos reading this?) had to work the band carnival the entire week and it's just been. ugh. yeah. bad. but have no fear, it's back! after a very short hiatus that wasn't actually a hiatus. also, thank you to everyone who pointed out that i didn't mention lauren's power in the first chapter. i realized that, and then felt really stupid. in response to a review i recieved, no. i don't have an update pattern, as you can probably tell. i'm sorry if that's a little inconvienant for some of you, but i can't promise that i'll always update on a certain day every week, for a bunch of different reasons. again, thank you to everyone who reviewed. you guys make me so happy.

**SHAMELESS SELF-PIMPING;** you should totally check out the two oneshots i just posted like, two days ago; But You're So Beautiful To Me and The Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine. they're both klaine!

**disclaimer;** i don't own anything. except the bitchy cashier. i own her! lyrics belong to blink-182, roller coaster. look it up. it's awesome.

* * *

><p><em>i had that dream about you again,<br>where i wait outside until you let me in;  
>and there i stay.<em>

* * *

><p>"Uh, medium fry. With cheese. And two cokes."<p>

The cashier nods, bored, and punches a few buttons with a little more force than necessary. Blaine shoves his hands a little deeper into his pockets and shifts from one foot to another. He glances over his shoulder. Santana's finally picked a table and she's busy unloading her many shopping bags on the floor. "Ten Fifty-Two," the cashier drones, and she slams two cokes onto the counter. Blaine frowns.

"Expensive," he grumbles under his breath. The cashier shoots him a dirty look, slides a tray towards him and holds out an impatient hand. "Okay, okay, geeze," Blaine says, fishing in his pocket. He holds out eleven dollars and waits for his change. She hands him back a few coins. Of course, Santana wanted fries from the most over-priced place in the food court. He grabs the tray and spins away.

"Have a good day, sir!" The cashier calls after him maliciously.

Blaine hates people.

He makes his way over to Santana's table and sets the tray down in front of her. She instantly reaches over and grabs two fries. There's nothing dainty about the way she shoves them in her mouth. Blaine takes a sip of his coke and raises both eyebrows. "What?" she asks defensively, "I'm _hungry_, okay? We're safely thirty minutes away from Coach, I can actually _eat_ something other than those nasty ass protein shakes."

Blaine wrinkles his nose. "Those things don't seem healthy."

Santana waves him off. "Are you kidding me? They're terrible. Makes you throw up everything you eat that isn't straight lettuce. I haven't eaten fries in almost seven months," She puts her lips to the straw and takes a drink. She pauses, frowning, and then says, "I wanted Rootbeer."

"Sucks," Blaine comments off-handedly. She throws a fry at him. The cheese sticks to his cheek. Santana bursts out laughing and licks a napkin, sticks it to his face. Blaine tries to slap her hand away. "Gross, stop it."

Santana rolls her eyes and continues rubbing until the cheese is gone. "Suck it up, Anderson. Girl germs won't kill you."

"They might," Blaine says miserably. Santana grins.

"Hey, check this out," She says randomly, reaching down into a bag and pulling out a bright green bra. "When you were taking forever buying the food, I went to Vicky's Secret. Spent over a hundred dollars," she says proudly. "Free bra. It's good karma, I'm telling you." She holds it up to her chest and looks down. "Think Brit'll like it?"

"I think she'll be distracted by the color," Blaine says honestly. Another French fry is thrown. It lands in his hair, this time.

* * *

><p>Santana's hummer pulls into the driveway of one of the nicest houses Blaine's ever seen. His eyebrows shoot up, and Santana has the grace to look a little embarrassed. "What happened to Lima Height's Adjacent?"<p>

"No one will take me seriously if I tell them I live in this prissy little neighborhood," she says hotly. Blaine holds both hands up in surrender.

"Sorry to say, San, but no one takes you seriously _period_."

She reaches across the console to smack his arm. "Help me carry my bags in, douche."

"Yes, ma'am," Blaine says. Santana hits him again and he laughs, stumbling out of the door. He opens the back door and grabs as many bags as he can carry. He's careful not to step on the perfectly trimmed grass. Santana unlocks the front door and pushes it open, walks straight into the living room with only a, "You can leave the bags in the kitchen."

Blaine makes his way into the kitchen and starts unloading the bags on the table. Santana comes in a few seconds later to get two bottles of water out of the fridge.

Someone clears their throat from the door way, and Blaine spins around. A beautiful Latina woman is standing in the kitchen, eyeing him appraisingly. Her hair hangs in delicate ringlets and she's wearing a dress straight out of a Martha Stewart catalogue. Blaine feels like he just stepped back into the fifties. He also can't get over how much she looks like Santana.

"Santana, darling," she drawls, and she has a rather heavy accent, "You didn't tell me you were bringing a friend over?"

"Ma, this is Blaine Anderson. He's a friend from school," Santana drones, barely glancing up, "Blaine, this is my mom."

Mrs. Lopez's eyes are wide as she stares at him. "_This_ is Blaine? You didn't mention how handsome he is."

Blaine's natural instinct is to charm _the hell_ out of Santana's mother, and so he smiles winningly and says, "Thank you, Mrs. Lopez. It's nice to meet you."

Mrs. Lopez offers a simpering smile. "Hello, Blaine."

"Blaine's sleeping over tonight," Santana says with a tiny smirk. Blaine nearly winces at how that sounds.

"Oh," Mrs. Lopez surprises Blaine by looking slightly pleased.

"He's gay," Santana adds. Mrs. Lopez sighs.

* * *

><p>Santana leads Blaine up a beautiful grand stair case and says, loftily, "Sorry about my mom."<p>

Blaine only shrugs, totally captivated by the chandelier hanging in the foyer. It probably costs more than Blaine's entire house. "She seems nice."

Santana shoots him an unimpressed look. "You can drop the act, Anderson. She can't hear us."

"She comes on a little…strong?" Blaine offers, and Santana actually laughs.

"Mommy dearest would rather me be screwing boys in her house than hold hands with Britt in public," Santana shrugs, "She won't ever admit it, but she loves Brittany. She'd just rather us be friends."

She leads him down a hallway and pushes open the door to her room. Santana's room, compared to the rest of the house, is extremely plain. The walls are yellow and the hardwood floor is covered in some places by a small rug under her desk. Her cheerios uniform is hanging off her closet door. There are championship trophies lining her walls and pictures of her and Brittany on the corkboard. What surprises Blaine is the picture of Santana and himself framed on her desk. He remembers it being taken by Brittany outside Blaine's house a few days after his transfer. He and Santana are lying down in the grass, laughing about something he can't remember. Blaine doesn't comment on the picture, because Santana's not really the sentimental type. He makes a mental note to ask Brittany for a copy later, though.

Santana drops down on her bed and Blaine's quick to follow a few seconds later. She pinches him in the side and asks, "What do you wanna do now?"

"Paint each other's nail, have a pillow fight—"

Blaine gets a face full of pillow.

"Cute," Santana deadpans.

"I thought so."

Santana is quiet for a moment, before she smirks and says, "You know, you have to join the football team now."

Blaine chokes on air. "Why?"

"Every guy is glee either has been on or is on the football team. It's a right of passage."

"Even Kurt?" Blaine jokes. He stops laughing when Santana stares at him blankly.

"Yeah," she shrugs, "He was a damn good kicker, I'll give him that. Won us our only game last year."

"Wow," Blaine mouths.

"He was also a cheerio, did you know?"

Blaine nearly falls off the bed. "_What?_"

Santana starts laughing. "Yeah, he was pretty good, too. Coach keeps going after him to join again. She thinks his freaky mind-fuck will help us win for sure this year."

"She _knows_?"

Santana nods slowly, like he's stupid. "Of course she does. The teachers have to, so we can't use them to cheat. Except Sue. She uses them for her advantage," she pauses, looking proud, "I set our competition's head cheerleader on fire last year."

Blaine looks horrified.

* * *

><p>"Go long!" Finn yells, sliding in his socks around the corner. It's after school, and they have a few minutes before glee. Playing football in the empty hallways seemed like the best answer to their boredom. Blaine and Sam share a glance, before Blaine lets an easy grin slip on his face. He takes off running.<p>

"Ass!" Sam calls after him, hurrying to catch up. Blaine's laugh rings out in the empty hallway, and he glances over his shoulder. Finn hurls the football towards the two of them. Sam jumps up in an effort to catch it, but he misses at the last second. The ball goes straight into Blaine's waiting arms, and he runs for a few extra feet. He throws the ball at the ground as Finn yells, "Touchdown!" in an announcer's voice. Sam's hand flies towards the nearest water fountain. He jerks his arm upwards and water flies out and drenches Blaine.

Blaine picks up the ball and throws it at Sam's head. Sam catches it with a surprised laugh and throws it back. Blaine catches it, just barely, and throws it all the way back to Finn.

"HEY! THREE STOOGES, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Shit," Finn whispers, holding onto the football for dear life. Blaine whips around, only to see a woman in a track suit running full force in their direction.

"That's right, Curly, I'm talking to you!" She roars, face contorted into the ugliest angry expression Blaine has _ever_ seen.

"Damnit, _run_!" Sam yells, taking off past Finn. Blaine slides a little on the water and starts after him, shooting frantic looks over his shoulder every few seconds. Finn stumbles after them, and they round the corner. They pass a random nerd in the hallway, and then watch in horror as the crazy woman body checks that same nerd into the nearest locker.

"Holy shit!" Blaine yells hysterically, and Sam grabs his arm.

"Casualties must be made!" he shouts, "Let's go!"

They duck into the nearest room, which just happens to be the choir room. In a random, hysterical thought, Blaine wonders why they all just tend to gravitate to that room. Even while being chased by a psychotic teacher. In hindsight, it probably isn't the best move they could've made. She has to know that a group of show choir kids can usually be found in the choir room. Blaine's more concerned about staying alive at the moment, though.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Finn hisses, "We're gonna die!" And he dives underneath the piano. Sam glances around the room frantically, pulling Blaine in front of him. Blaine throws his arms up to his face.

The only others in the choir room are Mercedes, Artie, Mike and—oh god—Kurt. Mercedes doesn't seem all that surprised. She only watches Sam for a few minutes before asking, "Boy, what did you get yourself into this time?"

At the sound of his girlfriend's voice, Sam whips around. Only to run and hide behind her. "Coach Sylvester," Sam whispers in horror. Mercedes rolls her eyes.

Blaine's eyes bug out. "_That's_ Coach Sylvester?"

Surprisingly, it's Kurt that speaks. "You've never met her?" he asks, and he looks genuinely surprised. It seems like he's forgotten that he's supposed to hate Blaine.

"No!" Blaine cries, throwing his hands up, "Oh my god, she's terrifying!"

Artie nods solemnly. "Amen, brother." Mike shudders.

The door slams open, and Sue Sylvester makes her grand entrance. She's got one hand on her hip, the other pointing at Blaine. "You!"

Blaine freezes, eyes wide. "I'm sorry!"

"That's right, hobbit, beg for your life," Coach Sylvester hisses. Blaine can only gulp.

Mercedes reaches behind her to smack Sam upside the head. Kurt stifles a laugh. Sue turns her attention to Sam momentarily, glaring with the intensity of a million suns. She has yet to notice Finn cowering under the piano.

Mr. Schuester enters the room with impeccable timing. He takes one look at Blaine, reads his mind, and says, in horror, "Sue! You're scaring him half to death!"

"I'm taking Tramp here with me," Sue says sharply. Blaine feels like he might explode. He mentally begs Mr. Schue to save him, and the teacher gives him a sympathetic look.

Rachel nearly bumps into Mr. Schue and asks, annoyed, "Why are we all crowded by the door?" a pause, and then, "Finn…why are you under the piano?"

* * *

><p>Sue's got Blaine by the wrist, and he's got no idea where she's dragging him. They're outside, and Blaine thinks they're heading towards the direction of the football field. Blaine panics. What if she's gonna cut him up into tiny pieces and scatter him around the field so no one will ever find him completely? He'll haunt the school forever, buried under miles of Astroturf—<p>

"You, sit," Sue demands.

Blaine sits.

"Don't move."

Blaine stays still.

* * *

><p>"HEY! Tramp!"<p>

Blaine looks up, only to see a football being thrown at his head. He stands up and catches it without a second thought, eyes wide. Sue's walking across the field, someone in tow. Only he can't really figure out if this person is a boy or girl. Sue's looking as fierce as ever. She finally reaches him and says, "Coach Beiste, this is Blaine Anderson. He's new," after a pause, she adds, "And gay."

Blaine doesn't see how that really matter. He's about to say just that, but one look from Sue silences him.

"You have to put him on the team."

Wait, _what?_

* * *

><p>"So you're on the team, just like that?" Quinn asks, looking a little worried. Blaine can only nod.<p>

"Alright, Anderson!" Puck says cheerfully, reaching over to punch his arm. Quinn discreetly looks away, feeling awkward.

Santana looks smug from her place beside Brittany. "Told you," she says, smirking.

"I don't even wanna be on the football team!" Blaine says, distressed. Sam shrugs.

"I think it'll be cool," he offers, smiling brightly, "We'll have another glee guy on to help us out."

"Yes," Kurt drawls, eyes sharp, "Because we all know what the football team does to gay kids."

The glee club quiets after that, and a sense of worry washes over the glee club. Kurt settles back, arms crossed, and stares at the floor. Blaine lets out a shuddery breath. Quinn pats his shoulder, trying even harder than usual to be gentle. The smile drops off of Santana's face completely.

"Don't worry, Blaine," Finn says, resolutely. "We take care of our own."

A chair screeches as it's pushed back and falls over. Kurt's standing up, eyes wild. "Oh really? And where were you guys when _I_ needed you?"

Not for the first time, and definitely not the last, Kurt Hummel storms out of the choir room.

* * *

><p><strong>another author's note;<strong> hi again! hope you enjoyed the chapter. this one's kind of a filler, now we can actually get into the plot.

**THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ IT THAT'S WHY IT'S BOLD**. i know last chapter i said i'd be changing the title. well, that change will be taking effect as of next chapter. please be on the look out for a story from called **Everytime I Look For You**


	4. i tell myself i can handle it

Before any of you freak, yes. this is still me, it's still the same story! this used to be **When The Day Met The Night**, except now it's **Every Time I Look For You**. okay. moving on.

**author's note;** helloooo everyone. you get a nice amount of kurt-blaine-(sexual)-tension in this chapter. yayayay! also, in response to everyone who asked what i play in the marching band, i'm a bass drum in the drumline. thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing and favoriting and alerting because you guys are awesome. i'm glad people actually like to read this as much as i enjoy writing it. NOTE. i will be starting another multi-chapter story soon, but only after i'm well into this one. trust me, this will still get updated. it's a marchingband!au, because i'm lame. the main pairing will be klaine, if any of you guys wanna check it out.

**disclaimer;** lyrics belong to that girl by all time low. i don't own anything your recognize.

* * *

><p><em>said, "no, kid, not tonight.<br>you're not that cool, no you're not my type."  
>he's beautiful, but he's cold as ice,<br>and i'm still hanging on._

* * *

><p>"Mom?" Blaine knocks on the wood of the door and waits in the hallway. He shifts from one foot to another.<p>

His mother doesn't look up from her book, only makes a noise in the back of her throat and pats the spot on the bed next to her. Blaine makes his way into her room cautiously, and sits down on her bed carefully. His mom sighs and sets her book aside, takes her glasses off. She turns towards Blaine, takes his hand and says, "Please tell me you didn't get a girl pregnant."

Blaine's eyes widen and he sputters out, "What? No! Mom—I…No! I'm gay!"

His mom laughs and says, "Alcohol does strange things to people." The smile slips off her face and she asks, very seriously, "You haven't been drinking, right?"

"Mom!" Blaine cries, scandalized, "No! Listen, okay? I…I joined the football team."

His mom looks very unimpressed. "That's it?"

Blaine nods blankly.

She presses a hand to her heart and says, relieved, "You come in here, looking like you've just killed someone with your bare hands, all because you joined the football team?"

Blaine pauses, and then nods. "Pretty much." He sighs, "I thought you'd be a little…weirded out by it."

His mother looks thoughtful for a few seconds. "Yeah," she decides, "It is a little unexpected, especially because of all the thing the football team did to you at Westerville," she throws him a pointed look.

"It's okay, mom," Blaine's quick to say, "Sam's on the team. And so is Finn, and Puck, and Mike. Even Artie. They'll help me out."

She sighs. "That does make me feel a little bit better."

Blaine smiles. "Good," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, "Because you need to sign this permission slip."

He watches his mother grab a pen off the bedside table. She scribbles her signature, and Blaine's mind goes back to what Kurt said yesterday. His mom hands him the paper back and gives an encouraging smile. Blaine wonders if this is the right decision.

* * *

><p>"Here, Coach," Blaine says nervously, handing Coach Beiste the permission slip. Sue stands beside him, looking triumphant. Blaine's palms are sweaty, and the only feeling he can muster right now is <em>nauseous.<em>

"Are you sure about this, Sue?" Coach Beiste asks, looking worried.

"One hundred percent," Sue says sharply, "No question. You seen this kid throw? He's a natural."

Coach Beiste hesitates. "That's not what I meant," she says, "Look, you see how these guys treat Kurt Hummel. You want me to throw another gay kid right into their lion's den?"

Blaine looks at his hands.

Coach Beiste sighs. "Look, I know he's talented. He could do this team a world of good. But I'm trying to think of his safety, ya get me?"

Sue scoffs loudly. Blaine flinches. "He'll be fine. Won't you, Tramp?"

Blaine nods slowly. "I love football," he offers. Coach Beiste smiles at him.

"He's not even out yet," Sue continues dismissively, "He's just gotta stay in the closet until the end of next year's football team. Unless he gets a scholarship," She pauses, "Then you're screwed."

"Are you okay with that, Anderson?" Coach Beiste asks gently, "I understand if you'd rather just be yourself."

Blaine opens his mouth to answer, but he's cut off by Sue. She claps his back a little harder than necessary and says, "He's _more_ than okay with it."

Blaine nods weakly.

* * *

><p>"Coach Sylvester?"<p>

"Yes, Frodo Gamgee?"

"Why do you keep calling me Tramp?"

"Well, you see, I have a very meticulous system of nicknames to familiarize myself with my students. Your fellow fairy princess, Kurt Hummel, is the only other gay kid in this entire town. His thoughtfully-given nickname is Lady. Therefore, yours is Tramp. Do you see what I did there? It's a very clever nickname."

"But…we're not together."

"I don't think you understand. These nicknames? They're not for your benefit. Are you aware that I don't know your real name?"

"It's Blaine—"

"No one cares, Tramp."

* * *

><p>Blaine's got a box of hot chocolate in each hand, and he's trying to decide whether or not he should by the better brand for six fifty-five or the crappy-but-cheaper brand for four-oh-two. He shrugs and tosses them both into the cart, along with a carton of pink lemonade. Blaine likes pink, and not even in a gay way. Pink lemonade just tastes better. He rolls the cart into the snack aisle and checks his mother's list—<em>pretzels. <em>Blaine grabs a bag of cool-ranch Doritos instead.

"Excuse me," a woman says, and her smile can only be described as _motherly_.

"My bad," Blaine says, and he smiles back charmingly.

"It's no problem," she says, "You know, my son loves these things. I swear, he can eat a whole bag in one sitting."

Blaine grins. He seriously loves parents, sometimes. "I eat way too many of these things."

"My stepson, on the other hand?" She laughs, like she's letting him in on a secret. "Hates junk food," She pauses to look at something over Blaine's shoulder. "Here comes one of my boys now."

Blaine turns around to smile at the stranger, and instead comes face to face with Finn.

"Yo, dude!" Finn exclaims, face breaking into a wide grin. Blaine smiles back. Finn practically yanks him into a half bro-hug, followed by another one of those weird fist-bump-handshake things that Blaine is terrible at. Finn only laughs cheerfully and says, "We'll work on it."

"Hey, man," Blaine grins.

"You two know each other?" the woman—Finn's mom—looks positively thrilled.

"Yeah!" Finn says excitedly. "This is Blaine. He's in glee, and he's on the team. This is my mom. Most of my friends call her Carole, so I guess you can too."

"This is Blaine?" Carole asks, raising an eyebrow. Blaine flushes. Does everyone talk about him to their parents? "It's good to finally meet you, sweetie," She says warmly, "Finn's had nothing but good things to say about you."

"Carole? I think we should buy dad the baked lays, instead—"

Blaine freezes. _This_ is Carole's stepson? God, his luck sucks _so bad_.

Kurt Hummel is standing in the middle of the aisle, holding a bag of baked potato chips with a shocked expression on his angelic face. Except he's not angelic. Kurt Hummel is a very mean individual. And since when are he and Finn related? Did no one thing to tell him that? Kurt sucks in a deep breath and says, "Hello, Blaine," like it pains him.

Blaine nods, and tries to plaster what he hopes is a smile on his face. "Hi, Kurt."

Finn snorts.

* * *

><p>Blaine's sitting at the piano in the choir room during his lunch period, toying with the keys. His fingers keep playing the same notes over and over again, stringing into one familiar song. It's not even a piano song—hell, it's not even a slow song. It's just some pop song with crappy lyrics. Incredibly catchy, though. It's been played over fifty times on his iTunes.<p>

"_What I'm supposed to do, oh-oh? When she's so damn cold, like twenty below._" Blaine sings, fingers flying over the keys to create notes that aren't supposed to be there, "_That girl,_" he pauses, then amends, "_That boy, that boy, he's such a bitch…_"

"Knock knock."

Blaine jumps a few inches in the air and curses softly. On instinct, he disappears. There's a soft laugh behind him. The sheet music that had been resting precariously on top of the piano flutters to the ground. Before it can hit, however, it's stopped. Like a rewind button was pressed, it flutters gracefully back onto the piano.

"You can reappear, now. If you want," Kurt offers, "I'll forget about the song. I know you meant it to be about me."

Blaine's face is bright red when he finally phases back. "It wasn't, I—"

"You changed the lyrics," Kurt says, unimpressed, "I know I can be a bitch," A pause, "I actually came to apologize."

Blaine chokes on air, just a little. "Really?"

"Yeah," Kurt sighs, "I shouldn't have freaked you out about the football thing. You aren't even out yet," There's a hint of bitterness in his tone, but it's gone in a second. "If what Finn says is true, you're going to be just fine." His smile is a little forced and he seems extremely uncomfortable.

Blaine's silent for a few seconds. He glances up at Kurt's face and asks, blankly, "Finn made you do this, right?"

Kurt shifts from foot to foot and mumbles, "Actually, it was Carole," He sighs. "She says it would be unfair to Finn if I scared you off." He gives a wry smile.

"I'm not that easily deterred," Blaine shrugs, and he turns back to the piano. "It's cool. I'll make sure to tell Finn we're best friends now." Now it's Blaine's turn to sound a little bitter. Kurt frowns. Blaine starts to play a slower rendition of _Teenage Dream_.

"I'll just…leave you to it, then," Kurt says, and he hesitates in the doorway for a few seconds.

"Hey, Kurt?" Blaine asks suddenly. Kurt freezes.

"Yes?" The piano stops.

"Why do you hate me?" Blaine's eyes are on the keys, unmoving. They start to move underneath his still fingers, playing a clumsy reprise of the song he'd been playing seconds earlier.

"You know," Kurt says slowly, "I can't actually play. With my fingers, I mean. But if I can hear it in my mind, then I can play it with my mind."

Blaine's hands move to accompany Kurt's playing with his own, lower version. "You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream," Blaine sing softly.

Kurt smiles, but it abruptly falls off of his face. The piano stops. "I don't hate you," Kurt says softly. "I don't hate you, but I don't like you."

Blaine pauses, hands stilling. "I can work with that."

* * *

><p>Blaine would like to think that they've made some progress, that maybe they're getting closer to conversations instead of one word answers, smiles instead of grimaces.<p>

That's not the case.

By the time glee club rolls around that same day, Kurt's across the room from him, surrounded by his safety net—Mercedes, Tina, Brittany. Blaine sighs, and goes to sit down next to Finn.

"Hey," Finn says, "Did you talk to Kurt, maybe?" He asks, trying to be nonchalant. Blaine snorts.

"Yes, I did," he says, "Earlier today, actually. We're cool," he shoots a look in Kurt's direction and sighs. "Kind of."

Finn looks awkward. "I just, you know. I want my friends to get along with my brother. So it's not all awkward when you come over."

Blaine almost smiles. "It's cool, man."

"Cause, if it comes down to it, Kurt's my family. I gotta choose him. But I don't wanna have to choose. And I won't, if you guys get along," Finn look completely distraught. Blaine pats his arm.

"Finn, seriously. It's fine. He's your brother," Blaine shrugs. Finn grins at him.

He doesn't notice Kurt's been glancing at him every few seconds, looking away every time Blaine so much as tilts his head.

* * *

><p>"Okay, guys!" Mr. Schue claps his hands together, grinning brightly. "You guys know what time of the year this is, right?"<p>

"Duets!" Rachel says excitedly, and she stands up at once. "If I may, I'd like to offer my voice to our newest member, Blaine Anderson." She gives a polite little clap. Blaine raises an eyebrow. Mr. Schue sighs.

"Rachel, please sit down," he says, and she gives him a disgruntled look.

"Blaine's singing with me," Quinn says sharply, and then turns to share knowing look with Blaine. Rachel sighs heavily and drops down into her seat.

Mr. Schue shakes his head. "Sorry, guys, but you're not picking your own partners this time," he says, ignoring the uproar. He talks over them, "It's come to my attention that you guys pair up with your significant other or best friend every single time—"

"You mean Mrs. Pillsbury told you that we do it," Santana says dryly.

"—and that's not the point of this exercise," Mr. Schue says deliberately, "So I'll be picking your partners for you."

"That's not fair," Rachel says at once, "We know who does and who doesn't clash well with our own voices."

"Rachel, your partner is Sam," Mr. Schue says, eyebrows raised. Mercedes holds Sam's hand a little bit tighter, and Sam looks positively terrified. Blaine gives him a sympathetic shrug. Rachel nods curtly. "Mercedes, you're with Puck," Sam's eyes widen even more, and Puck grins at Mercedes, "Quinn, I want you with Mike."

Tina looks distressed. She turns to the empty seat next to her and says, "But she's prettier than me," in a hushed voice. There's a pause, and she nods a few times, before saying, "I know. I have to trust him."

Blaine stares. Nobody else bats an eyelash. Blaine sometimes forgets that Tina can talk to ghosts.

"Artie, you and Santana are partners." Santana looks livid, and Artie looks kind of sad. Brittany pats Santana's hand obliviously. "Brittany and Finn," Brittany beams brightly at Finn, who looks fairly happy with his partner. Finn smiles back. Rachel frowns. "Tina and Lauren," Mr. Schue smiles. "Which leaves…"

"Me and Kurt," Blaine says, in horror. Kurt looks _furious._

"What is it with you and stereotypes, Mr. Schue?" Kurt demands, "Of _course_ you would pair the only two gay kids in the entire school to sing a duet."

"I picked you guys to sing together because there's some serious and _unjustified_," Mr. Schue gives Kurt a pointed look, "animosity between you two. I want you to sort it out."

Kurt crosses his arms and leans back against his chair. The look he shoots Blaine can only be described as nasty, or maybe hostile. Blaine knows that any progress they made, this just shot them ten steps backwards.

* * *

><p>"Mike and I decided I'd be singing and he'd be dancing in the background," Quinn says conversationally, sipping at her iced coffee, "But that's kind of how it always works. We were thinking maybe <em>Wine Red<em>, you know, by The Hush Sound? He'd only have to sing a little and her voice fits mine." She pauses, "What are you and Kurt gonna do?"

"I have no idea," Blaine says, "But this sucks. Did you see him in glee today? He wants to mind fuck my head right off my body."

Quinn stares at him blankly, before she bursts out laughing. Blaine cracks a tiny smile.


	5. i'd like to believe

**author's note;** hello, everybody. i'd like to apologize for the length of this chapter, because it's kind of short. buuuuuut i promise, next chapter will be longer. and better. i just wanted to get this out, and i felt it would be too long if i wrote everything i wanted to. so i cut it off, and the rest will be a seperate chapter. kurt and blaine make a little progress in this chapter, but i promise you, it won't be THAT easy. ;D we're only on chapter five, after all.

it's official; i have been recced on livejournal. can i just take a moment to FREAK THE HELL OUT! i don't even think this story is that good! but i am oh so excited. if anyone wants to send me the link, i'll be eternally grateful. i really just want to fangirl over a fan of my story. this is just so exciting. okay, i'm done now.

on another note, i was wondering. what do you guys think about nick/jeff fics? you know, three and six? warblers? yeah, them. i'm working on a story involving them and i almost have the first chapter done. and you should totally let me know if you'd be interested in reading it. yes, i know, i know, i promised a marching band au, WHICH i plan to start this week. promise. hopefully. (fingers crossed.)

**disclaimer;** the songs mentioned in this chapter belong to panic! at the disco, fun., gym class heroes, the hush sound, and the amazing musical RENT, respectively. i don't own anything, really. not even the plot, because, hello, totally ripped off of xmen. yeah.

* * *

><p><em>c'mon, c'mon,<br>with everything falling down around me  
>i'd like to believe in all the possibilities.<em>

* * *

><p>Quinn hugs her books closer to her chest, and the binding starts to unravel under the pressure. Mike taps her on the shoulder helpfully and she loosens her hold, smiling gratefully. Blaine's not really paying attention, because they're talking about their duet and Blaine doesn't really care about theirs. He doesn't really care about his, honestly. Kurt can pick whatever song he wants, can pick whichever part he wants to sing, as long as Blaine remains alive and functioning. Blaine knows Kurt can do some nasty things to his intestines with nothing more but a flick of the wrist. He's not about to chance that.<p>

"So it's _the sea's wine red, this is the death of beauty_, and then you dip me," Quinn's saying, and she bends back a little like it means something. Mike smiles and nods.

"And I don't have to sing that much, right?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You have an awesome voice," Quinn says dismissively, "I don't know what you're worried about. But yeah, it's only a few lines."

Mike beams, and he's about to respond when he's interrupted by a shrill call of, "Blaine Anderson!" Blaine groans and drops his head. Quinn squeezes his arm gently—gently, meaning Blaine will have a nice bruise in a few days' time—and smiles a little wryly.

"Have fun, Blaine," she says, and Mike gives him a sympathetic shrug before Quinn pulls him away.

"Blaine Anderson!"

Blaine turns around to see Kurt shoving past people and barking at anyone who gets in his way. He's holding a stack of papers that might be sheet music, might be lyrics. Blaine's too scared to care, really, because Kurt's got this look on his face that says he's going to get what he wants. When Kurt finally reaches him, he shoves the papers in Blaine's hand and snaps, "I've narrowed our duet options down to songs that I feel fit both of voice superbly. You can make the final choice," he pauses, and then sniffs, "With my approval, of course."

"Okay," Blaine says easily, shuffling through the papers. He sees a few that he recognizes, but most of them are foreign to him. "I'll look them up tonight when I get home, and I'll Facebook message you when I pick one."

"See that you do," Kurt says, turning his noise up. He abruptly stops, turns around, and walks the other way, leaving Blaine to stare after the enigma that is Kurt Hummel.

* * *

><p>"Me and Wheels are doing <em>Clothes Off<em>, Gym Class Heroes. He's rapping, I'm singing," Santana says, dropping her tray unceremoniously on the table. A drop of gravy flies off her mashed potatoes and hits Blaine's cheek. Brittany puts her tray down a lot nicer and shoves a forkful of macaroni into her mouth. Blaine wrinkles his nose, and wipes at his cheek.

"I have to try to teach Finn to dance," Brittany says softly. Her voice drops into a stage whisper as she adds, "Don't tell him, but he's really bad."

Finn frowns. "I'm right here, Brittany."

"I had originally planned for Sam and I to sing the Broadway classic, Light My Candle," Rachel sniffs, "But Sam is being _difficult_."

Sam shrugs. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable doing a love song with someone who's not my girlfriend. _In front of my girlfriend,_" Mercedes smiles just a little brighter and leans against Sam's shoulder.

Rachel mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, "_You and your damn morals_," before settling back in her seat. Finn pats her arm awkwardly, looking anywhere else.

"What about you guys?" Finn asks, eyes shooting between Kurt and Blaine. Blaine shrugs.

"We haven't really decided yet," he says, and then he catches Kurt's eye to make sure he's said the right thing. Kurt nods shortly and takes a sip of water.

"We've narrowed it down," Kurt adds carefully, and Mercedes gives him a small, secretive smile.

"We'll have it decided by tomorrow, probably," Blaine says. He takes a bite of his sandwich.

Sam grins at him and makes a face at Kurt once his back is turned. Blaine snorts into his ham and cheese, tries to cover it up with a cough once Kurt glances at him distastefully. Mercedes shoots both of the disapproving looks, elbowing her boyfriend in the ribs. She doesn't say anything, and Kurt turns back to Brittany. Sam rubs the sore spot with a wounded look on his face before he says, "Don't forget, first practice is after school today, Blaine."

"Yeah," Blaine says, feeling suddenly nauseous, "I know."

Kurt sits up a little straighter. Finn reaches over to pat Blaine on the back. "This is gonna be awesome," he says cheerfully.

Blaine nods weakly. "Totally."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Blaine!"<p>

Blaine drops his paper bag, filled with a half eaten sandwich and an untouched bag of chips, into the trash can on his way out of the cafeteria. He hikes his backpack a little higher on his shoulder and tries to ignore the voice calling for him.

"Blaine Anderson, wait!"

Blaine stops abruptly, and a thinner body crashes into his back, nearly knocking them both to the ground. Blaine turns around to see Kurt straightening out his vest, looking disgruntled. He says nothing, only waits for Kurt to speak.

"Give me a little warning before you try to kill me, would you?" Kurt snips. His face falls. "I'm sorry, that's not what I came over here for."

Blaine waits.

"I just," Kurt struggles to find the right words. "You'll be fine today. During practice, I mean."

Blaine lets this sink in. He registers Kurt's earnest expression, the way he's fidgeting with his bag. Finally, he asks, blankly, "Why do you care?"

Kurt frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You don't like me, remember?" Blaine prompts, "Why do you care?"

Kurt's face contorts into an annoyed expression. "Just because I don't particularly like you doesn't mean I want to see you get pummeled into bits by a Neanderthal jock. Please, give me a little credit here." He turns away like he's about to storm out, which, Blaine has gathered, Kurt is very good at doing.

"Wait, okay?" Blaine hurries to say, and he grabs at Kurt's wrist. Kurt freezes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to like, offend you. I know you're not _that_ horrible." Kurt cracks a tiny smile. Blaine maybe does an internal victory dance.

"Yeah, well," Kurt sighs. Blaine grins.

"You're extremely confusing, Kurt Hummel," he says, and Kurt looks mildly surprised. He recovers quickly, and he's back to the epitome of grace in a matter of seconds.

"That's what I was aiming for," he says airily. He looks down for just a second and adds, "You can let go now, Blaine."

Blaine glances down, only to realize that he's still holding onto Kurt's wrist, and that he's _been_ holding Kurt's wrist for an unnecessarily long time. He jerks his hand away like he's been burned. He starts to stutter out an embarrassing apology, only to stop short once he catches sight of Kurt's _eyes_. They're as beautiful as ever—and oh, god, _no_—but there's this mischievousness to them that Blaine's never seen before. They're practically sparkling with contained laughter. Blaine knows he's staring. Blaine doesn't really care.

But in the next second, it's gone, and Kurt's disappearing through the crowd.

* * *

><p>Blaine's standing next to Coach Beiste in the locker room, trying not to look as terrified as he feels. Puck's leaning menacingly against a locker a few feet away from him, and that makes him feel a little better. It's still no enough, though—one look at these jocks, and he knows he's going to be <em>eaten alive.<em>

"This is your new teammate, Blaine Anderson," Coach Beiste barks, "I expect you to treat him with respect, because he's gonna take our asses to finals this year."

"He's small," one of them says, looking only mildly interested. Blaine rolls his eyes.

"He's a damn good player, that's what he is," Coach Beiste says, and she gives Blaine a fond smile. She pats him on the back and retreats into her office. Puck stands up.

"No one messes with Anderson," he says, voice clear and loud. A few jocks snort. "I'm serious, I'll kick your ass."

"I bet he can't even play," another jock jeers, and the back of his jersey says _Azimio_. The jock grabs a football off of the floor and pegs it at Blaine's face. Blaine catches it without blinking, and hurls it back. It hits Azimio in the shoulder, just as Finn charges at him.

Finn slams him against the wall roughly by the collar. Blaine makes his way across the locker room and says, cheerfully, "You'd lose that bet, dude."

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt Hummel:<strong> Are you home from Football yet?

**Blaine Anderson:** uh yeah. how'd you kno?

**Kurt Hummel:** Finn just got home. How did it go? Are you still in one piece for our duet?

**Blaine Anderson:** i actually had a lot of fun. finn and the guys helped loads.

**Kurt Hummel**: That's good.

**Blaine Anderson:** yeah…

**Kurt Hummel:** So did you pick out the song yet?

**Blaine Anderson:** well i just got home and all, but I rlly love c'mon by panic and fun. one of my favorite songs.

**Kurt Hummel:** that's…actually what I was thinking.

**Blaine Anderon:** we're brain twins :)

**Kurt Hummel:** lol not really. Come over my house after school tomorrow, we'll work it out.

_Kurt Hummel has logged off of Facebook Popchat._

**Blaine Anderson:** sure. no problem. i can totally work around you. :P

* * *

><p>"So," Blaine says casually, managing to catch up with Kurt right before he turns the corner. Kurt raises an eyebrow.<p>

"So," Kurt repeats dryly.

"I think we should be friends."

"And why's that?"

"Because you don't hate me," Blaine grins cheekily. Kurt remains unimpressed.

"That doesn't mean I like you."

Blaine snorts. "Half of New Directions hates each other, but they're still friends. Why should we be the exception?"

Kurt sighs heavily. "Fine, Blaine," he says, like he's doing Blaine some kind of favor, "We can be friends. You can leave now."

"Friends walk in the hallway together," Blaine grins. Kurt rolls his eyes but says nothing else. Blaine counts that as a win. He follows Kurt into the choir room with a bright smile, and drops down in the seat next to Kurt's. At the other boy's surprised expression, he says brightly, "Friends sit next to each other in glee club."

Kurt opens his mouth to say something, but Tina's already launching into some graphic Dresden Doll's song. Blaine leans back and crosses his arms, satisfied. Kurt does his best impression of a fish.

* * *

><p>"Santana drives you, right?" Kurt asks airily, and Blaine hurries to keep up as they cross the parking lot. He nods.<p>

"Yeah, but I told her I didn't need a ride today," he says. Kurt gives a short nod and leads him towards a huge black Navigator. Blaine's jaw drops, because _seriously_, what is it with McKinley kids and huge cars? Kurt smirks. "You like it?" Blaine nods wordlessly. "You should see the '77 Cadillac I've got at my dad's garage. We're fixing it up. Slowly, but it's getting there."

"You work on cars?" Blaine asks, momentarily stunned. Is there anything Kurt _doesn't do_?

Kurt gives him a sharp, sideways glance. "Yeah," he says shortly. He unlocks his car with a snap of his fingers and the door flies open. Blaine's door nearly knocks him to the ground. Kurt tries and fails to hide his smirk.

"Mature," Blaine mumbles, climbing into the passenger's seat. He watches at Kurt starts the car without touching anything, his keys safely in his bag. It's kind of hard not to be awestruck. "Do you ever do anything manually?"

Kurt looks at him like he has some kind of mental disease. "Why would I do that?"

"It's a wonder no one's found out about you yet," Blaine retorts. Kurt's hands tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. Blaine's startled, and he thinks randomly that it's a good thing _Quinn's_ the one with super strength.

"Who says no one's found out?" Kurt says sharply, teeth clenched. Blaine's fingers twitch in his lap, and the desire to disappear is becoming more and more prominent with every passing second.

Kurt pulls out of the parking lot with so much force, he almost flatten a mini-coop filled with Cheerios. There's a loud honking behind them, and Kurt throws his arm out the window to flip them off. Blaine sinks down in his seat, frowning. Kurt's hands fall of off the steering wheel but it keeps moving, one of his hands floating inches about it to keep control. Blaine's hand instantly flies to handlebar, panicked. Kurt rolls his eyes and mutters, "Relax. I'm still steering."

"Who found out?" Blaine asks, carefully, and the car swerves a little.

"That's none of your business," Kurt snaps immediately.

"Did it end badly?" Blaine presses, because he's never exactly had a filter. He never knows when to _stop._

"No, Blaine, we became best friends and skipped off into the sunset, okay?" Kurt's voice is rising, and his tone is clear. Blaine closes his mouth before he can say something stupid, _again_. He leans back, looks out the window, and tries not to picture all the nasty things Kurt can do to his insides.


End file.
